


Victor's Reflection

by weeping_wandrian



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Verbal Abuse, banquet, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weeping_wandrian/pseuds/weeping_wandrian
Summary: Victor thinks back on his career, and how he ended up where he is now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like an hour lmao  
> it's my headcanon

Victor lay on the hotel bed that night, long after the other skaters had gone to their rooms to sleep, repetitively turning the new ring on his finger. _Something round and gold_ , Yuuri had promised him. He smiled at how innocently he had accepted the promise. He hadn't connected the dots--when Yuuri asked Victor to "take care of him until he retired", Victor had assumed he meant as a coach. When he joked how romantic the proposal sounded, it was a tentative probe to see what he really meant--and Yuuri had only smiled. Was it due to Yuuri's reservedness, or was the veiled proposal a quirk of his Japanese upbringing? Regardless, Victor was far from displeased with the result. The pair's relationship had been shaky at first, but as Yuuri warmed up to him, Victor had begun to sense something within himself. It was little things, like watching Yuuri practice, or touching up his lip balm, or eating katsudon with the Katsuki family. It was belonging.

In Russia, Victor had felt incredibly isolated. He maintained a good relationship with Yakov, his coach, and with the other skaters at the rink, but when he went home every night it was only to Maccachin. That wasn't a bad thing--he loved his dog dearly--but he still felt a deep loneliness as he cooked for only himself, ate by himself, and spent every night in. So it had been for nearly ten years. Victor frowned as he thought back to his adolescence. Beside him, Yuuri rolled over in his sleep.

Victor was a prodigious young skater, admired by his coaches and his fellows. At fifteen, he was the rising star of Russia, enamored by those younger than him and resented by those older than him. The teenager had practically grown up on the ice after a family outing revealed his talent with a pair of skates. It was his mother's idea to put him through training to hone his skill. A fiercely patriotic woman, she jumped at the opportunity for her son to someday represent their country on the international stage. It was lucky for her that even an intense regimen of strength and flexibility training, combined with early morning ice practice, could not quell the child's love for the sport. Victor quickly learned many difficult moves, constantly improving the nuance of his step sequences and impressing his coaches. By his mid-teens, he was already co-choreographing his programs with Yakov. The boy was unstoppable.

In his heart, though, conflict brewed. Young Victor loved his parents, however hard they pushed him to excel at the sport, but he kept his emotions inside. A naturally outgoing and kind-hearted person, Victor had never shied away from hugs, kisses, and other physical intimacy. When he began to mature, all that had changed. He felt shame now when he even looked at his rinkmates, let alone hugged them. Being raised in Russia, he had been taught that it wasn't right for a man to look at another man like that. He couldn't help it though--he wished he could feel the same way looking at the girls in rink, but felt nothing but comradery with Mila and the other girls. Yakov, his parents, and his rinkmates watched Victor become withdrawn. No longer did the same bubbly energy emanate from him on the ice; cheerful greetings from his friends were met with mumbling and averted eyes. He didn't seem to take any joy in his skating. After two years, the situation came to a head.

"What's wrong with you, Vitya!!" his mother cried one night over dinner, aggravated at Victor's failure to make proper conversation. He mumbled something like "I don't know" and stared into his soup bowl, watching the potatoes swirl around and around with his spoon. "This is beginning to affect your performance."

"We're not worried as much about your skating as we are about you," his father corrected, putting down his soup spoon. "If skating doesn't make you happy anymore, we'd rather you just tell us."

His mother grumbled something he didn't hear. Victor didn't know what to say. He still loved skating, even if his mother was so pushy about it. He just wished his feelings would go away. The potatoes in his soup kept spinning.

"Vitya, answer me when I speak to you," his mother said. Victor stared at his reflection on the spoon handle, blinking fast to hold back his tears. He didn't want to cry in front of them--he knew his mother would be angry, accuse him of being too sensitive. "Vitya!"

Victor cried out. His mother had grabbed him by the ear, and was pulling painfully on it. "Let go, let go," he cried, letting the tears go. "Please let me go,"

"Masha--" his father began to say. "Masha, let him go, this isn't helping."

"I'll let go when he answers me," Victor's mother said, yanking his ear again. Victor squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. He knew the words he would say. If he were honest.

"Victor, answer me," she said. Opening his eyes, he caught sight of his reflection on the spoon handle again. It felt like he had detached from his body, like he was in a dream.

"I like boys!" he cried suddenly. The pressure on his earlobe released. He still couldn't make eye contact with them. His father, even his mother, were speechless.

"No," she said. "You're not."

"But Ma-" Victor started. His father had a curious expression on his face. It was somewhere between disappointment and shame.

"No," she said again. "Now go to bed, Victor. Now."

Terrified to speak, Victor stood abruptly and marched across the apartment to his room, wiping the tears from his stinging eyes.

After that, he stopped speaking to his parents, and his mother stopped pressing him for it. He continued his training in silence, suspecting that his mother had told Yakov what had happened when the other skaters at the rink would gather by the bench to whisper, watching him with sideways glances. Somehow, he almost didn't care. Mila, whether or not she had heard the gossip, didn't seem to care that Victor had become a pariah, and they began chatting again in between drills. For the first time in years, Victor felt like he had some semblance of a life again, in spite of the cold atmosphere of his home life. At fifteen, he won the Junior Grand Prix Final gold medal. The same week, he finally left his parents' home, even got a dog. By sixteen the whole world was watching him. When he won his first Grand Prix gold, standing on the podium, he wondered whether his parents were in the crowd. He even took a few girlfriends, fearfully conscious of the rumors that roiled around him. Still, his painful memories persisted, eating away at a hole in his heart. Until, at the banquet after his sixth Grand Prix gold medal, a very, very intoxicated Japanese skater asked him to dance.

It was Katsuki's first Grand Prix, and the young man was shy and reserved during the competition. Victor couldn't remember speaking to him once, even after he tanked his free program and fell to sixth place. In a way, he felt guilty about Katsuki's loss. There were rumors he had been injured earlier in the season. When Victor looked at him, though, he just seemed deeply lonely. Walking out of the competition building, Victor had spotting Katsuki being interviewed by a Japanese network. A pang of sadness struck him, and he called out.

"Katsuki! Let's take a photo together!" he shouted across the room. Yuri Plisetsky, whom he had just been lecturing a moment earlier, glared at him. Katsuki looked up from his interview, a blank look on his face. Without a single word, he turned around and left. Victor was stricken. Why would he refuse an gesture of kindness like that? He put his hurt feelings aside, however, and went back to lecturing Yuri.

"Why would you bother with that has-been?" the teenager griped. "I'm the only Yuri on ice that matters these days."

That night, though, Katsuki was there at the banquet. He seemed reluctant to be there, and hung out as a wallflower with his glass of champagne. Before Victor could approach him, Christophe pounced.

"Looks like you topped me again, Nikiforov!" the Swiss skater shouted jovially. It was clear he had had at least a few glasses of champagne himself. "Just you wait, my program for next will blow the judges away!"

Victor awkwardly allowed Chris to converse with him. He always felt vaguely uncomfortable in his presence, this man who was so assured of his sexuality that he would put it on display for an audience of millions. Victor wondered what the people back in Switzerland thought of Chris. While he was distracted with this trifling conversation, Katsuki began to choke down champagne faster than an American frat boy. They were interrupted when suddenly, at the center of the room, someone was causing a commotion. When Victor looked, it was none other than Japan's favorite figure skating son, Yuuri Katsuki. The young man had loosened his tie, and was spouting nonsense.

"A d... Dancing competition!" Katsuki slurred, splashing champagne on the floor as Jean-Jacques and Yuri Plisetsky jumped back to avoid the spray. "Y-yuri Puliset--sky! I choose youuuu!"

Yuri looked scandalised. His face was all red. Victor couldn't help but chuckle. Before Yuri could even respond, Katsuki had begun to dance, abandoning the champagne flute _on_ the carpet. Victor started laughing at first, but his amusement soon turned to surprise. Katsuki... was a good dancer? He had no idea where an introverted Japanese figure skater would have learned to breakdance, but Katsuki's moves aroused something in him.

"Yuri, dance!" Victor shouted. Then he began to chant. "Dance! Dance! Dance!"

Soon the other banquet guests--mostly Chris and JJ--joined in. JJ shoved Yuri towards Katsuki, who the crowd had formed a circle around. Yuri was not happy. Then he straightened up and loosened his own tie.

"Back off, Katsuki," Yuri declared. "I'm the Yuri everyone's eyes should be on!"

Victor smirked. Sure, Plisetsky was standoffish, but he also had an incurable competitive streak. As he watched the pair dance wildly, he felt a sudden urge to join them. He didn't know what was holding him back. Suddenly, he felt like he was thirteen years old again, afraid to touch his male rinkmates. He was reminded of Katsuki's earlier refusal. But watching his two fellow skaters enjoying themselves with abandon, it seemed like that didn't matter anymore.

"Chris, take my jacket," Victor said, unbuttoning the blazer and thrusting it towards Giacometti. "Victor Nikiforov is going to dance!!!" someone in the crowd shrieked.

Victor began to dance. Yuri was laughing at him, but not out of cruelty. Victor suspected he had drunk more than the single glass of champagne Yakov had allowed him. It was a laugh of amusement. Then Katsuki looked at him. His face was red, eyes a little watery, and he was smiling like an idiot. Seeing Victor, his smile bloomed into a dazzling, goofy grin. Victor melted. He wanted to hold this man. Still, the fears of his youth nagged at him. Katsuki clumsily took Victor by the hands. Even drunk, Katsuki was a surprisingly nimble dancer, so despite his lack of training, Victor easily followed his moves. The crowd faded away, Christophe's cameraphone, Yuri's giggling, all of it. It was only them and the music. Victor stared into Katsuki's eyes, and forgot all his anxieties. This man was so beautiful. He was so, so, drunk, but he was beautiful. The moment was right--without even thinking about it, Victor dipped Yuuri Katsuki, their faces only inches away, in front of every other major figure skater. Behind him, Yuri Plisetsky stopped dancing, but he didn't notice. Katsuki responded by lifting his head, planting his lips directly on top of Victor's. Victor's eyes went wide. He had never been so intimate with another man before, but in spite of all his inhibitions, he knew he'd never want anything else.

_I guess we didn't turn out too bad,_ Victor thought to himself as he lay awake in a hotel in Barcelona. _Though I guess he didn't remember any of that. Which explains a lot_.

Victor turned his head to look at Yuuri. He was lying on his stomach now, right hand resting on the pillow. City lights, gently glowing through the gap in the curtains, glinted off the gold ring on his finger. He hadn't thought about his own family in a long time, but looking at Yuuri, he knew how lucky he was. Yuuri had a family that loved him. The Katsukis even loved Victor. A sudden wave of emotion overcame him: it was bittersweet, for all the years he had lost lying to himself, but filled with happiness too, because in spite of all the heartbreak over the years, lying beside the man he loved, Victor wouldn't change a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> there's a jem and the holograms reference in here if you're interested


End file.
